


My Dinner With Harry

by cruisedirector, Dementordelta



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Courtship, Dessert & Sweets, Dinner, Innuendo, Ireland, M/M, Portkeys, Potions, Restaurants, Romance, Snarry-A-Thon16, Travel, Virgin Severus Snape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-03 10:49:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6607849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruisedirector/pseuds/cruisedirector, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dementordelta/pseuds/Dementordelta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is so determined to wine and dine Snape that he's even willing to discuss sketchy potions with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Dinner With Harry

**Author's Note:**

> The restaurant and lighthouse are real places, but we can't guarantee that they serve wizards.

"Potter's here again." Draco's smirk, which had been sufficiently annoying when he had been an overly privileged student, was utterly infuriating now that he'd become a colleague. "He says it's Ministry business and he'll only talk to you."

"Tell Potter I said that you are entirely qualified to identify and assess unknown potions," Snape told Draco. Four days earlier, Potter had brought in for analysis a jar full of tiny frogs, reduced with a Shrinking Solution that Potter should have been able to identify from the essay on such potions given as a holiday assignment the summer before Potter's third year at Hogwarts. "The Chosen One is trying to waste my time, in all likelihood to damage my reputation."

"Potter demanded that the Ministry pardon you," objected Draco, who was still smirking. "He saved your reputation. I think he just wants to see you."

"Look, I know he's in, I've been watching --" Potter burst through the door the same way he did everything, as if just dismounting a broom and rather surprised to be on solid ground. "Monitoring, I mean," he said, coloring a bit.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" Snape asked, sweeping aside Potter's stammerings as he always did.

"You're in," Potter said, stepping further into the little back room. "Draco said he was going to check, but --"

Folding his arms over his chest, Snape glared at him. "Malfoy knows better than to come barging into rooms where delicate potions might be brewing."

Potter seemed to be doing his best to divert his gaze from something he found intriguing upon Snape's person and look around the room. "Are there?" he asked, pushing his glasses back up on his nose.

"I told you," Draco said in an exaggerated whisper, "he's gone round the bend. Aurors always do." He made a face. "Potter's young for it, of course, but what can you expect?"

For some reason Draco's whisper seemed to make Potter lower his voice. "Delicate potions," he said by way of explanation, taking a step backwards.

Both Snape and Draco blinked at him, perhaps for different reasons. "I'll just leave you two alone then," Draco said, actually tiptoeing toward the door.

"I will ask again," Snape reiterated in the voice he had used when he suspected that a student might be lying about whether he'd taken the proper safety precautions before putting ingredients into a cauldron. "What are you doing here, Potter?"

Typically, Potter refused to be intimidated, pulling a vial out of a pocket in his robes and unstoppering it. "There's a witch in Catford..." he began.

"...making second-rate love potions which she is trying to sell at less reputable shops like Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," interrupted Snape, his eyes watering from the intense odor emanating from the vial. "If you couldn't identify the ingredients from the stench, you have no business calling yourself an Auror."

"I could identify the ingredients perfectly well, thanks," Potter replied, smiling too brightly. "I was curious about the inclusion of skunk oil. I thought people only put up with that in longevity potions."

"Skunk oil will extend the effect of any potion, as you would know if you'd properly finished your education," retorted Snape. 

"Would that make it dangerous?"

"On the contrary, it would make it more effective. No one could disguise this by hiding it in chocolates or firewhisky. I imagine it would only be consumed by someone wishing to intensify devotion to a loved one."

"That's kind of romantic." Potter looked like a soppy fourth-year gazing with longing at a Quidditch star. "What if two people took it together? Would it have the usual problems with love potions or would it actually make them love each other more?"

Snape's eyes were still watering from the smell of the potion. He rolled them for effect. "Doesn't the Ministry have anything better to do than collect evidence on sellers of questionable potions?" he demanded pointedly.

Potter shrugged and recapped the offending potion. "Probably, but since I'm the Head Auror for the Sketchy Potions division, this one landed on my desk."

The unreality of that statement roiled through Snape, momentarily making all of his muscles feel slack, including his jaw, which dropped open. "What? You? What dunderhead recommended you for a position investigating potions?" He saw the answer as soon as his mouth had formed the question, so his mouth and Potter's spit out the identical answer.

"Slughorn."

Potter set the potion down and went on, "It wasn't like anyone else was clamoring for the job."

"And you probably saved that pompous arse's job when you thought to save Ronald Weasley with a bezoar while Slughorn was panicking." Snape tried not to be overly smug that Potter had learned that from himself, not Slughorn. He started to ask why Potter had accepted the sketchy potions job when Draco stuck his head back in the door. "Everyone still alive? Nothing looks scorched or --" His face screwed up as he caught the lingering potion scent. "What are you two doing in here?"

"Potter was just leaving," Snape said quickly.

"About that witch --" Potter began.

"Which witch?" asked Draco. "Oh, the illicit potions one. Surely you can use your charms to get her to confess."

Potter looked uncomfortable, and for some reason slid his gaze as far away from Snape as possible, which, in the little back room, was not very far. "My charms don't exactly work on witches."

Snape and Draco both snorted at this. "I was getting very friendly with a pretty Ravenclaw at the Nightshade last weekend," Draco announced. "Unfortunately, she only wanted to talk. I thought she might be after my family's money, but it was worse. She wanted to know whether I could introduce her to the bloody Chosen One."

"Celebrities don't need charms," agreed Snape. "Clearly you aren't trying very hard, Potter."

"That's true." Strangely, since Snape had just insulted him, Potter smiled. "I should have said I'm not really charmed by witches."

Once again Snape's jaw unhinged itself. He could see that Draco was gaping as well. Snape expected Draco to make a joke, maybe even utter a nasty comment -- though Potter had had as much to do with Draco's pardon as with Snape's, and hadn't even pushed to send Lucius Malfoy to Azkaban for his crimes, Draco was not above calling a poof a poof -- but what came out of Draco's mouth was, "Say, Potter, does this mean you aren't dating Ginny Weasley?"

Potter's eyes shifted from their inexplicable close study of Snape's face over to Draco. "You can't possibly believe Ginny would be interested in you."

"Why not? I'm good at the same hexes as she is and I'm not a bad-looking bloke."

"You're a Slytherin snob about blood purity, and she's a better Seeker than you," Potter shot back. "But you're welcome to try, Malfoy. Be good for a laugh. Now, will you get out of here so I can talk to the Potions Master?"

At that, Draco's smirk returned. "Of course," he said, giving Snape a mock bow as he backed out. "Let me know if you need anything, _sir_."

"I will ask one more time, Potter," muttered Snape wearily. "What are you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Potter was blushing yet he didn't look as scornful and arrogant as usual. "I came here to see you."

Suddenly made nervous by Potter's burst of confidence, Snape found himself wishing he hadn't escaped to such a small back room. And, as if Potter's sudden confidence boost had simultaneously sapped Snape's own, he found his reply less forceful than he'd intended. "You don't need me to tell you that's an inferior potion," he said.

"But I do...need you," Potter replied, "your expertise I mean. I'm going to confiscate the lot and neutralize it, before we have half the witches and wizards in London smelling like skunks and alerting the Muggles." He looked studiously casual for a moment. "Why don't you come out and have a drink with me and we can figure out the best way to neutralize the batch."

"You do realize I have an actual job -- that I'm working, or should be, right now?" Snape replied. "I can't just flit out --"

"I'm working too," Potter put in quickly, looking unabashed. "We could go out after you get off." He swallowed hard and looked as ridiculously young as he had the moment his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire. "You can lecture me on my lack of potion skills," he added. As tempting as that sounded, Snape was already shaking his head. "For hours," Potter added, "You can start with First Year and berate me some more for taking this job."

"Are you mad?" Snape asked, frowning. That must be it, Draco was right, all Aurors went bonkers in the end, and though Potter was young for it and still had all his limbs, he'd been through more than most.

"Possibly," allowed Potter. "But I'm also stubborn, as you know, and I want you to come out with me."

"After a full day of work, you can't think I want to discuss potions."

"We don't have to discuss potions." Absurdly, Potter looked happier now that Snape had declared his disinterest in assisting him than he had looked a moment earlier. "We can talk about whatever you'd like. Now that I'm no longer your student, you can tell me what you like to do in your spare time, and I..."

"Potter," interrupted Snape in his most scornful voice, the one usually reserved for Hufflepuffs and Dolores Umbridge. "It sounds as if you're asking me for a _date_."

"I am." Potter's smile was downright cheerful. "It'll be easier if I don't have to keep pretending to need help with potions. Though if you don't want anyone to know, I could bring you flowers and pretend they're ingredients..."

"GET OUT," roared Snape. "Malfoy, get in here! Mr. Potter seems to need help finding the door."

"Does this mean I can pick you up later..."

Draco's timely appearance prevented Potter from finishing his question, though Draco's smirking, "Told you so," did not improve the situation.

"So, that's no on coming out later, then?" asked Potter.

"Absolutely n-" Snape began.

"Well," added Draco quickly, and both Snape and Potter looked at him. "You have to eat, Severus," he pointed out with a shrug. "And Potter presumably eats more than the unicorn streamers the Ministry threw at him after the war."

"I do," Potter said, obviously trying to sound helpful.

"And it wouldn't do either of you any harm to eat a pastry or something now and then," Draco finished.

Frowning, Snape crossed his arms over his chest again. "Why are you agreeing with him? You never agree with him!"

Even Potter looked suspicious. "Yeah, why are you actually being what must pass for pleasant for you? You know I'll never put in a good word for you with Ginny."

Looking insulted, Draco huffed, "I can handle Ginny Weasley. Can't I just be agreeable about this? Neither of you is burning up the pages of the _Prophet's_ Society section, and frankly, if it ends badly, then at least Potter won't be underfoot all time, mooning after you."

"That's not a bad idea," Snape said.

"I've had worse," Potter added helpfully. "Ideas, I mean, not dates."

"That remains to be seen," Snape growled, a bit startled to find that he was, indeed, growling.

"Does that mean --"

"It means I'll think about it. Not hard, mind you," Snape added, uncomfortable once the word "hard" had escaped his lips.

"Perfect." Potter smiled just as soppily as Lavender Brown had whenever she spotted Ronald Weasley during that terrible year when Snape had witnessed Weasley wasting himself on Brown and Granger wasting herself on Weasley -- a situation that Snape had heard remained ongoing. "I'll pick you up at six."

"I just said I needed to think about it!"

"Fine, then I'll come at six and you can tell me your decision." Potter bounded his way toward the door, disappearing into the outer room, where he could be heard if not seen. "Listen, Malfoy, make sure he doesn't make more work for himself as an excuse --"

"Are you asking me for a favor, Potter?" Draco pursed his lips speculatively. "All right. I suppose I owe you one."

"You owe me more than one," Potter shot back. "But you should do this for Sev- for Professor Snape."

Snape waited several minutes after he heard the door shut before opening the inner door to Draco. "Is he gone?"

Draco's smirk really was insufferable. "For now. But you heard him -- he's coming back. And for what it's worth, I think you should go."

Snape shook his head. "I think I shouldn't." Now that Potter was gone, he felt calmer, more able to focus on the situation. And the situation looked bleak. He parted the curtain, looking out into the hallway, and into the shop to make sure they were truly alone.

"When was the last time you went out with...with anyone? Before the war—the first one?" Draco asked peering over his shoulder and flicking the curtain open.

"It isn't any of your business," Snape said absently, pulling out the ingredients he'd ostensibly come into the storeroom to get. He endured Draco's heaving sighs before shooting him a look. "What?"

"I know it isn't any of my business, look, I get it, Potter's a loon, but for some reason he's fixed on you." He waved a hand. "He's got this saving people thing -- look at how he jumped to Ginny's defense, and if ever a witch didn't need the bloody Chosen One defending her, it's Weasley." He added some dried basil to the tray in which Snape was putting the ingredients. At Snape's questioning look, he added, "It looks like you're making spaghetti sauce, so I was just helping."

"You can stop helping," Snape snapped, taking out everything and starting over. "Because you are not helping matters."

"What have you got against Potter?" Draco asked, leaning against the work table. "All right, I know, he's naive and kind to wee forest creatures, but he must have some good qualities."

Waving the vial of powdered millipede, Snape said, "His qualities, good or otherwise, don't have anything to do with it. I don't want --" He stared at the vial before setting it down over-gently. "I haven't," he said at last.

"Haven't what?" Draco asked, "Seen him talking to wee forest creatures? It's chilling, I admit, but he is an Auror, it's probably part of his job description."

"Gone out with anyone," replied Snape. "Before or after the war." He braced himself for Draco's burst of laughter, or droll remark. When silence met his proclamation, he turned to see what the young man was up to.

He was thinking. Snape had seen enough students in the throes of that action to recognize the signs. "Well?" he asked, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice.

"I'm sure you had your reasons, but you didn't say you don't want to," Draco pointed out. "In general, or with Potter in particular. And really, you could do a lot worse."

"Potter was never a friend of yours..." Snape began, not wanting to admit that he agreed.

"It's true, but he had plenty of opportunities to try to ruin my entire family and he didn't," pointed out Draco. "I don't think he'd ask you to date him unless his intentions were sincere." Draco thought a bit more. "Also, it isn't like Potter is out slaying hearts right and left, either. He won't know you haven't been Slytherin sex on a stick, right?"

"Sex on a -- what?" Snape frowned.

"Whatever he wants, you should make him work for it," advised Draco pushing away from the work table. He shrugged. "I mean he is _Potter_. Chances are he'll find a way to muck it up all on his own."

Harry did bring a bouquet -- not flowers but fresh herbs, some quite rare in Britain -- which Snape had to admit was a thoughtful gift. Reluctantly Snape agreed to allow Draco to clean and lock up for the evening, warning that he would be back after his visit to whatever mediocre overpriced restaurant Potter had in mind.

Potter, however, had not finished surprising him. He presented Snape with a purple scarf.

"You can't possibly believe that I would wear this."

"What? Oh -- no, it's not for that." Potter did look rather vulnerable and not unappealing when he blushed. "It's a Portkey. Just needs the final..."

"The Chosen One is now illicitly creating Portkeys?"

"It's not illicit! I'm an Auror! I'm allowed to make Portkeys." Yes, embarrassed and sheepish were good looks on Potter.

"For Ministry work," added Snape.

"Ministry work can pop up almost anywhere. When I was a student, a Ministry official took me by Portkey to a Quidditch match." It was not news to Snape that many Ministry officials took as much advantage of leeway in the rules as had Albus Dumbledore. Now Potter looked defiant, like a young student. "When I go anywhere in London I sometimes get recognized. I thought we could go somewhere a bit more remote."

"Where did you have in mind?" asked Snape warily.

"The coast of Ireland. There's a restaurant right by the sea. You can look right out and see the water. The Templars Inn -- though it was actually wizards, not Templars. We could eat seafood and look at the castle."

This was so immediately tempting that it made Snape more suspicious. "If you are assuming from my mother's name that I have Irish roots I cherish..." he began.

"I wasn't assuming anything. Not even that you'd agree to come out with me." Potter paused, still looking younger than he had any business seeming to be after what he had already lived through. The fact that he needed to push his hair out of his eyes reminded Snape unpleasantly of Potter's father, but the gesture seemed nervous rather than arrogant when it was Harry instead of James. "I've never seen the sea. And I wanted to see it with you," he explained. When Snape did not reply to this remarkable statement, Potter added, "There are no snakes in Ireland."

"I'm aware of the tourist attractions."

"Then you'll come?"

Snape could not come up with a good reason to say no. "Very well," he agreed.

They stood very close to activate the Portkey and arrived in an appropriately out of the way spot, within walking distance of their destination, though Potter insisted on walking first to look out over the water with the sort of amazed expression only possible on someone who truly had never seen the sea, no matter how much magic he had witnessed. From the outside, the inn looked rather unprepossessing, but the smells wafting through the air made Snape realize just how long it had been since he'd eaten. Not that he'd been nervous this afternoon waiting to see if Potter would turn up.

He waited until they were seated, menus in place, before he spoke. "Now tell me, Potter, what is this really about?"

Potter had his menu open, even though Snape had left his on the table. "Deciding between the haddock and the salmon?" Potter replied, putting down his menu and, apparently, his guard. "Can't we just...have dinner? Converse? Like adults. I am one, in case you haven't noticed. You can tell me about your day and I'll, well --" He made a face, as if concentrating. "I'll listen, if you don't want to hear about the Magical Department of Sketchy Potions."

"They don't really call it that," Snape replied before he could help himself.

"They really do." Potter's smile wasn't a schoolboy's smile, but, as he'd said, an adult's.

Pursing his lips, Snape picked up his menu. "Then I shall have the haddock, and stout." He folded the menu. "I trust you won't imbibe so much that you can't return us home."

Still looking over the menu, Potter shook his head. "I don't really drink," he said, "so that won't be a problem." He signaled a waiter standing a discreet distance from their table, which indeed had a view whose virtues would have been hard to overstate even in the most extravagant of tourist publications, ordering salmon for himself along with some variety of Muggle cola with cherry. 

The last reminded Snape that, even though Potter was now an adult, a chasm of many years divided them by age. "You still haven't told me what this is about. Are you trying to get me drunk so that you can interrogate me about my potions expertise?" 

Potter bit down on his lower lip, trying to hold in a laugh, but he was ultimately unsuccessful. "You've found me out! I want to retire from the Ministry to make a fortune in illegal potions and I decided that you were just the man to help. Course it would have been easier just to summon you for some made-up reason and use Polyjuice, but then we wouldn't have this view." 

With a wave, Potter indicated the undeniably scenic -- another man might even have said romantic -- setting. Snape tried to turn his appreciative gaze into a disdainful eyeroll. "Potter, I have observed you closely for too long not to know your aptitude for pretending to be doing something innocuous while scheming to accomplish something underhanded. Given the unlikelihood of your actually seeking a romantic relationship with me..."

"Why is that unlikely?" interrupted Potter.

"The differences in our ages, our positions, our situations, our degrees of fame and infamy, the fact that I am scarred while you look like a Quidditch player --"

Potter's grin alerted Snape to his mistake. "I don't look much like Krum or Wood, but thank you for noticing. I don't care about the difference in our ages and the rest is all irrelevant. Go back to how you've observed me closely for too long."

"Because I couldn't trust you to tell me the truth about simple things like how you obtained my Potions textbook!" sputtered Snape. 

"So you were already 'closely observing' me when I was a student?" replied Potter, avoiding Snape's sputtering question. "Kinky."

"If it's your intention to blacken my record as a Hogwarts instructor, I can assure you a little thing like closely observing a student will add little to the vast body of infractions I left behind that last year," pointed out Snape.

Potter was gazing at him with an unreadable expression, which, for Snape, was unnerving, because he was very good at reading expressions, and he wouldn't have credited Potter with such depths of inexplicability. He opened his mouth to reply, then their drinks arrived, with the little ritual of sampling them and finding the vein of conversation again.

"That's not what I meant," Potter said, in that forthright way he had. "And I'm sure you know it, I'm sure you're just winding me, up but I'm not sure why you keep doing it. You came out with me, so you must not find me repulsive." He pretended to think this over. "In fact, you sort of gave me a compliment, you said I look like a Quidditch player." He looked satisfied. "I think that qualifies as a good first date, and we haven't even been served dinner yet."

Brows climbing, Snape said, with deadly calm. "Date?"

"Date," Potter replied firmly. "It's not a meeting, it's not a party, it's not a business engagement. What would you call it?"

"The delusional ramblings of an overworked Auror," Snape grumbled, but even he could tell his heart wasn't really in it. He buttered a piece of thick, crusty bread, satisfied by the crunch between his teeth as he took a bite.

"It's possible that I'm delusional," Potter was nattering on cheerfully. "But, you know, about that Potions textbook. I can't believe you just randomly left it for Slughorn to hand out. I think you knew the odds were good that it would end up in my hands or with one of my friends -- at worst, with Malfoy, but since you already knew the counter-measures to all your own spells, you'd be able to stop him if he tried to do something stupid with them."

"Malfoy wasn't the one who tried to do something stupid with one of my spells," Snape said blandly around a mouthful of what he had to admit was very, very good bread with soft, milkfat-rich butter. Potter might have been a dunderhead, but someone had given him good advice about restaurants.

"Anyway, I think you wanted to pass on all the useful things you knew that you couldn't teach in a classroom," continued Potter, licking butter off his fingers in an extremely distracting manner. "You saved me and Malfoy both. Is that why he's working for you?"

Malfoy's connection to the Death Eaters had prevented him from securing a more respectable job despite his father's best efforts, something Potter probably already knew, though Snape would not give him the satisfaction of saying so. "He was the best Potions student your year and, unlike some people, he didn't need to steal his technique from someone else's textbook," he said instead.

"That's rubbish. Hermione was the best Potions student my year," argued Potter, though he looked uneasy and allowed Snape to take the last piece of crusty bread. "Do you actually _like_ Malfoy? There's not a side effect of the Unbreakable Vow that binds him to you sexually or something?"

As ludicrous as this idea might have been -- both that an Unbreakable Vow could have erotic side-effects and that Snape could ever have been interested in a boy he'd known since Draco was a whinging prat even more arrogant than Potter -- Snape couldn't help smirking at Potter's apparent unease. The timely arrival of their fish enabled him to leave Potter squirming. When at last the waiters had retreated, Snape pointed his fork in Potter's direction before sinking it into his lovely white flaky haddock. "I have no attachment to Malfoy of the sort you're insinuating."

He probably should have withheld that last bit longer because Potter made no move to hide his relief. "So, not Malfoy then. Anyone else I have to hex to clear the field?"

Even the admittedly excellent fish couldn't distract Snape long enough to cover his astonishment. He managed not to sputter but it was a near thing. "Are you seriously suggesting that there might be --" His brain cast about for a concept that was so alien his mouth could scarcely form the words. "Contenders for my affections?"

Very nearly he expected Potter not to answer, to dig into his own fish and change the subject, or hex himself into a small forest creature, but oddly Potter did none of those things. "Does that mean you have affections for me?"

Snape buried his face in his hands. "Why are you doing this to me? If you still hold a grudge from the torments I inflicted on you as a student, why aren't you inflicting similar torments upon me instead of being so ridiculously appealing?"

A long moment passed between them before Potter said, "I think you know why, but you're just too stubborn to admit it." He popped a bit of bread into his mouth and swallowed it before he said, "Just like you're too stubborn to admit you're having a good time."

Snape glowered. Potter did not back down. "The food is good -- excellent in fact," he admitted.

"And the company?"

"Fishing for compliments?" Snape sniffed.

Potter chuckled and sliced into his fish. "You can berate me all you like, since it means you'll spend time with me. I call that a win."

Rather than waste energy on yet another roll of his eyes, Snape tried the hot buttery potato. The sour cream was perfectly seasoned with chives and had no oniony aftertaste, good enough nearly to make him moan with pleasure. The elves at Hogwarts were notorious for putting scallions into dishes that were perfectly good without them, and Malfoy's favorite takeaway place added obnoxious flavors like kale and chili.

"If you intend to wine and dine me in such a manner, I suppose I might be willing to have dinner with you on occasion," conceded Snape.

Grinning, Potter twirled a French bean on his fork. "Just dinner?"

"And tea." Despite his aristocratic bloodline, Malfoy's preferences in tea were atrocious, just as his father's had been. Draco had taken up Lucius Malfoy's giving Snape fancy tins for his birthday and Christmas, meaning that Snape had a cabinet full of dreadful flowery tea. "Perhaps the occasional scone. Or does your taste in sweets run to treacly things like chocolate frogs and those terrible Muggle biscuits with frosting inside?"

Potter's smile had turned diabolical. "I like all kinds of things for dessert," he said, nudging his foot against Snape's in a manner that confirmed he was not speaking of Honeydukes chocolate or fancy pastries.

Sadly, it seemed that Snape's first instinct had been right -- this was all an elaborate scheme to cause him to embarrass himself. "I never eat dessert," he snapped.

"Never?" Potter's brow puckered adorably, by which Snape surely meant in a pathetic juvenile manner. "Oh. Well, we can stick with dinner and tea for now, and maybe eventually we'll share some jam roly-poly or spotted dick." The cheeky bugger then winked.

Snape waved his teacup at Potter. "I'm quite immune to your juvenile attempts at innuendo." He thought about dislodging Potter's foot against his but decided it was not worth the effort. He took a sip of the tea instead.

"You know, sometimes dessert is just dessert," Potter pointed out, but his eyes were still twinkling.

Focused on his tea, which needed a bit more cream, Snape said dismissively, "If that's the extent of your flirting technique, no wonder you've had to settle for me."

That wiped the smirk off Potter's face. "I'm not -- honestly is that what you think?" He put down his fork, leaning in so that Snape couldn't look away without being rude, not that being rude was ever a deterrent for him but they were in very close quarters. "The only reason I've ever flirted with anyone, ever, before now is so I wouldn't make a total prat of myself once I did work up the nerve to ask you out."

Trying not to visualize Potter flirting with anyone, Snape said, "You're the Chosen One. You could have anyone you want, whether you're any good at flirting or rubbish at it."

The smirk was back. "Exactly. Being the Chosen One only ever worked out when someone was trying to kill me. Now I get to be selective about who I want. Exclusive even."

Since it seemed that Potter was not joking, it was clear that his years spent under the influence of a Dark Lord had warped his perspective. "Allow me to disabuse you of whatever delusions you may have cultivated about me," Snape began. "I am not secretly heroic and self-sacrificial. I had my own reasons for my actions during the war. Nor do I secretly possess a fount of benevolence. I am the same temperamental man you have always known. And in case you are harboring the secret hope that my dark past includes all manner of sexual perversion --"

"Does it?" interrupted Potter with the same cheeky grin. "Don't hex me, I'm joking. I don't know much about sexual perversion but it's not very high on my list of things I want to try. I know you have a temper, I never thought you --" Potter actually covered his mouth with his napkin and giggled. "Benevolent isn't exactly the first word that comes to mind. Listen, everyone I meet thinks I'm supposed to be some kind of paragon. I can't even say 'fuck' without scandalizing an entire generation of people who want me to act like a hero. Do you have any idea what a change it is to be out with someone who'll call me delusional to my face? You're the first date in my adult life who's given me a compliment I can actually believe."

Snape was spared having to reply to this monologue by the waiters who arrived to set down a fresh pot of tea and inquire as to whether they were interested in dessert. "You are foolish to believe anything I say," he muttered.

"I'm going to assume that never doesn't really mean never, then, and order us some chocolate whisky cake." How did Potter have such an uncanny sense for what Snape wouldn't be able to resist -- was he using Legilimency? Snape peered at him, but experienced none of the characteristic distortion indicating that his mind was being penetrated, and anyway he didn't believe that Potter -- who had been pathetically easy to read as a student -- could have become so skilled in a few months as an Auror that he could penetrate Snape's thoughts undetected. "Want some Irish cream to wash that down?"

"Getting me drunk won't make me any more amenable to your flirting," Snape warned him.

"I'm not trying to get you drunk!" objected Potter. "I'm hoping the fact that we made it all the way through dinner means you might actually be enjoying yourself."

"As I said, the food is exceptional," Snape was forced to admit, watching hungrily as Potter indicated the whisky cake on the platter of desserts presented to them.

"And the company?"

"Isn't it obvious by now that I don't get out much? I had little enough opportunity as a young man and could not risk it as a spy."

"You could change that now." Potter grinned again. "Or if you prefer staying in, I know where there's great Greek takeaway not far from your lab that I'm sure is too Muggle for Malfoy to have discovered."

"Draco might surprise you," Snape said, too late realizing it might be best not to engage Potter in meaningful conversation, though ending the evening was not as high a priority now that there was whisky cake in the offing. "Especially in the pursuit of Miss Weasley. He was quite obsessed with the idea that she preferred you. He's used to getting what he wants."

Potter made a face like he smelled something bad, which was not likely, considering the still-delectable smells coming from the kitchen. "As long as he never set his sights on a certain secretly heroic benevolent fount --" His mouth twitched. "Or is that fount of -- never mind." Their cake had arrived, immediately distracting Potter. "This cake looks too good to concentrate on Malfoy."

"You're exasperating," Snape said, but he was picking up his fork. Potter had ordered a single piece but it was easily large enough for both of them and perhaps several of Potter's closest friends. It was swimming in a whisky-heavy sauce, and the plate was ringed with candied pecans.

"See, another compliment," Potter said, slicing off the first bite. "Careful, you'll give me a swollen head, saying things like that." He swallowed a bite, obviously trying not to give out a moan of bliss. "The lure of the cake must be working."

Pointing with his fork, Snape said, "That was not a compliment." The dense cake practically melted in his mouth.

"On the level of insults I know you're capable of, that's as close as I'm likely to come." He watched Snape take another bite before slicing into it himself.

Considering this, Snape nodded. "All right, that's a fair assessment."

Licking a bit of cake off his fork, Potter added, "Besides, there was something in your voice when you said it."

Snape was indignant. Not indignant enough to put down his fork. "There was not."

Potter chased one of the pecans through the sauce. "Oh yes there was, something...almost soft."

Snape shifted in his seat. Soft was not a word appropriate to any part of this evening. "Now I know you're delusional." At Potter's knowing grin, he added, " _That_ was not a compliment."

"Delusional is still an improvement on some of the things you've called me over the years." Winking, Potter took another bite of the cake. "We should take a walk after we finish this. Work off the calories."

"Not all of us need to keep in Quidditch shape," Snape shot back, though the words were cut off as he put another bite of cake into his mouth. If he continued to eat like this, he would need more than walks to work off the calories. "You said there was a castle?"

"Ruins. It was a Muggle castle. And there's a lighthouse right on the end of the peninsula."

The way Potter said _peninsula_ should not have been enticing. Snape considered that, despite his caution, perhaps he had had too much to drink. "How far?" he inquired.

"The lighthouse is a couple of miles. We can sneak around back and Apparate so we don't have to walk the whole way. The castle is a bit farther away..." Potter's expression turned sly. "We'd pass a couple of bed-and-breakfasts on the way."

"You can't possibly believe that I'd sleep out on a first date," retorted Snape.

"I've never actually slept out on a first date, but you said you never ate dessert, and yet..." Potter pointed at what was left of the cake. "I would for you. I'd do pretty much anything to make sure there was a second date."

"You sleep out on second dates, then?" Snape regretted the question as soon as it was out of his mouth, not only because it would surely lead to intimate questions on Potter's part as well, but because his voice sounded surly and envious.

"Not really." As their waiter passed nearby, Potter waved. "Could we get a couple of pieces of the whisky cake boxed up? Thank you." Grinning at Snape, he continued, "We can put a charm on it and have it for dessert again another night. I haven't had all that many proper dates and if we're being honest I've never spent the whole night with anyone. I didn't want to give the idea that I was interested in something serious when I was plotting to see whether I had any chance with you as soon as I worked up how to ask. And you haven't hexed me --"

"Yet."

"Yet," Potter amended with too much good nature to be genuine, "so I'm feeling cocky enough to think there'll be a second date."

 _Cocky_ was another of those words that Snape was certain shouldn't have any place in their conversation, but pointing that out would only have encouraged Potter to misbehave further. Snape scowled at himself, since the word _misbehave_ was even worse. Their boxed-up cake arrived and Potter paid for their meal in some mysterious way involving a Muggle credit card, which Snape didn't follow but Potter seemed confident enough about to rise to his feet. 

Snape followed, and they headed outdoors. As experiments went, this one continued to be suspiciously pleasant. The night was agreeably temperate. The breezes ruffling Snape's hair held scents of fish and salt, and, once they moved away from the restaurant, smelled less like spilled beer and frying food.

Wordlessly Potter nodded toward an out of the way spot where they could Apparate to the lighthouse, which they could see by its light off in the distance. There were some service sheds behind the restaurant, arranged haphazardly and in various states of repair. Potter headed into the shadows of the one furthest away from the restaurant, turning toward Snape, lips parting, presumably to direct them where to Apparate. 

Before Snape could think about what he was doing, he moved closer to Potter in the shadows and pressed his mouth over his. He had not kissed anyone since he was much younger and never in anything previously that might have been described as a romantic situation -- if stealing a kiss behind a shed could qualify as such now -- but he was familiar with the principles involved.

"Mmmmff!" exclaimed Potter, though not, Snape thought, as if he were displeased. A moment later, his lips parted and his tongue nudged against Snape's mouth.

This was rather startling and caused Snape to break the kiss. "What are you doing, Potter?" he inquired.

"Um, kissing you back?" replied Potter, looking attractively hopeful. "You're very confusing. One minute I think you really don't like me and only agreed to come out for a change of scenery, then the next you're...mmmmff!"

Snape had kissed him again. This time he was ready for Potter's tongue, which traced the shape of his lower lip. When he let his lips part more widely, Potter's tongue stroked over his own, tasting faintly of whisky.

"That's quite arousing," muttered Snape. He hadn't meant to mutter it aloud. 

Potter's grin was practically a crow of triumph. "I'm glad you think so, because you've been arousing me for ages."

"I have barely spoken two civil words to you!"

"You saved my life, though." Potter gave him another breathless kiss. "And you call me delusional but I think you're kind of interested in me anyway."

"I must be the delusional one," grumbled Snape, but he didn't push Potter away, or push himself away, or stop kissing Potter, who apparently liked being kissed, even behind a shack.

Potter seemed to be doing something else with his mouth, oh right, speaking. "You're right, this is very confusing," he said, but he kept his mouth very close to Snape's. "Would it help if I said I was very attracted to you. I mean, um, not just right this minute because you've got me all hot and bothered." Snape hadn't known anyone he'd ever got hot and bothered, or, for that matter, anyone who actually said things like _hot and bothered_. "But for a really long time," Potter added. He looked very appealing with the light from a lamp near the front of the restaurant shading his face. "So do you think you might be?"

It took Snape a moment to track Potter's logic back to its source, but once he got there he could only stare. He considered kissing Potter again, but he'd tried that already and it hadn't shut Potter up. He had yet to discover what would, though that track that led down a rather tantalizing path. "I did kiss you first," he pointed out.

Slow color suffused Potter's face. "You did, didn't you?" Somehow his arms had crept around Snape's waist. "And you liked it."

Snorting, Snape said, "I don't need a change of scenery badly enough to accept an evening out with someone I loathe."

"Does that mean you like me?" It really was not worth pointing out that not loathing someone and liking someone were two different things, particularly _like_ in the sense that Potter meant it. "Because I might have secretly liked you even when I was trying to hate you, and I'll prove it, if you give me the chance."

"Are you asking me for a second date?" inquired Snape.

Laughing, Potter nodded. "Second, third, however many I can get away with. For starters." Smirking, he promised, "I thought maybe next time we could go to Paris. We don't have to have dessert unless we're both in the mood."

"There are rare potions shops in the Marais," Snape mentioned before he could stop himself.

"Perfect. If you want to keep things secret, I can pretend I'm doing research." Potter grinned at him. Before Snape could ask what he was doing, Potter had taken his arm and Apparated them both to the foot of the lighthouse. "Secret for now. Malfoy won't tell anyone, will he?"

"If he does, he will find himself hexed in a very uncomfortable portion of his anatomy," grated Snape, still catching his breath from the unexpected Apparation. The lighthouse was quaint, the sort of spot that Snape supposed some might consider romantic -- set back from the sea, providing ample shadow for two people to hide for a tryst. He wondered whether one day Potter might agree to return to this spot, if Potter were prone to such fits of nostalgia, or if Snape were. Either way, it was premature to speculate. "You might decide you don't want a third date."

"No chance." Again Snape found himself being kissed. "You know I'm very persistent. And this one went really well, don't you think? I didn't actually expect any kissing."

"You talk too much, Harry," muttered Snape before kissing him again to prevent any reply. It was still possible, of course, that Potter was going round the bend like so many Aurors, but Snape thought it was likely that he and Draco could keep Potter busy identifying sketchy potions before that could happen.

And if not, and Potter was indeed out of his mind, the sort who would perform grand romantic gestures and provide dessert as well...well, perhaps that was what Snape had wanted in a date all along.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment here or at [Livejournal](http://snape-potter.livejournal.com/3608828.html), [Insanejournal](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snape_potter/1560344.html), or [Dreamwidth](http://snape-potter.dreamwidth.org/863344.html).


End file.
